The PlotBunny Made Us Do It!
by Evil Narrator Ladies
Summary: A mysterious voice, known only as 'The Narrator' has invaded the world of Harry Potter with the diabolical purpose of killing off every single character she can get her hands on. Weapon of choice? Cliches. Parody


**Disclaimer:** Firstly, the big one: Neither I, nor my co-author, own Harry Potter. We are teenage girls, and will probably have to pay for higher education in a couple years. Suing would not be appreciated.

Secondly: This is a parody. It is intentionally illogical and strange. We're poking fun at cliches, not specific stories or authors. If you enjoy any of the cliches found within this story (and I know I do,) please do not take offense.

Flames will be used to craft s'mores for the other reviewers.

* * *

Crossing the magical barrier to Platform 9¾ was always an odd task. It required one to move through a seemingly solid brick wall, which, to Hermione Granger, was a very strange notion indeed. Some preferred to go through at a run, some liked to casually lean against it and fall through as such. Today, our pure-blooded frie—

"Um, I'm not pure-blooded..."

Shut up, you are now, you found out over the summer holidays. You're Blaise's long lost twin sister. You were given away to the Grangers when you were two months old because the Dark Lord was rising in power and you were in grave danger.

"...Uh... right... But why would a pure-blood family have to give _me_ up—while keeping my twin— because of Voldemort? That doesn't even make sense."

Oh, shut up. I'm the almighty narrator, I don't have to make sense! Now go through the barrier!

"Alright, alright, sheesh! I'm going!"

And so, our pure-blooded friend crossed through the barrier with poise, silky caramel tresses gleaming—

"Uhh, excuse me, Miss Narrator person? My hair is not caramel, nor is it silky..."

I thought you were supposed to be smart? Obviously, you were enchanted at birth to look completely ugly—

"I am not ugly!—"

—anymore. Because the enchantment wore off, you see, revealing your true nature as an olive-skinned Italian, with flowing caramel tresses, as I said before...

Hermione scoffed loudly.

Don't you scoff at me, young lady.

Hermione's lacy ra-ra skirt's ruffles swayed lightly in the breez—

"Yes, actually, _why_ am I in a skirt, and why is it so _short_?"

Silly girl, not only did you discover your new and much more desirable pedigree, you also had a makeover courtesy of Lavender, Ginny and Parvati, who are your new best friends now. Oh, and Pansy Parkinson. Upon hearing of your true identity Pansy revealed her true—and much nicer—personality and you two are very good friends now.

"But Pansy's a _cow_!"

That's not very nice, considering she's your best friend, but we'll take that as a compliment because in India, cows are worshiped as gods.

"What does that have to do with _anything_?"

I can't actually tell you because it has to do with the Prophecy made before your birth which ultimately led to your adoption by the Grangers. As I was saying, Hermione's lovely white skirt, which complimented her equally lovely tan skin swayed gently in the breeze that was passing through the platform, attracting attention to her long lovely legs.

"What do you mean, 'lovely tan skin'? I have the world's most horribly uneven tan and an even more horrible sock tan!"

Poetic license my dear, poetic license. Besides, if I said you had a horrible tan, then Draco wouldn't be attracted to you; no one likes uneven tans.

"Dra-_ Malfoy_?! You're- oh no you're not. No way, no way, Jose. Not that ferret. What happened to Ron?!"

Hermione, you're a smart girl, think about it, given the choice between a pound of gold and a pound of carrots, which would you choose?

"You're dictating my romantic choices by _hair colour_?"

You're avoiiiiding the quessssstiooooon.

"... Fine, the gold, but _ONLY _because with a pound of gold I can buy lots of carrots."

Good girl. Now let's get this plot moving, shall we? Go find your friends.

"Merlin, you're so pushy," Hermione said, stepping onto the train and going in search of Harry and Ron.

I said your friends, dear. You ditched Harry and Ron a _loooong_ time ago.

"_What_?! But I've been friends with them since first year! You cannot do this to me."

Can and will. You're way too stubborn, you realize? You really need to dumb yourself down a bit if you're going to win Draco over.

"Who says I _want_ to win him over? Urgh!"

"Umm, Hermione, who are you talking to?" Neville asked, peering out at her from behind a half-closed compartment door.

"Neville! Thank Godric, I think someone's cursed me—"

Now, now, that's enough of that! He can't help you anyway.

"Hermione!" a voice squealed from the other end of the train.

Hermione winced, wondering if her ears were bleeding. She looked up like a hunted animal, spotting Pansy immediately. Instinctively, she dived through the door that Neville had appeared from, slamming the door shut behind her while the poor boy looked at her, extremely bewildered.

This really wasn't the plan you know...

"Shut up! There is _no way_ I am friends with... _that_!"

Neville blinked and inched backwards in his seat, away from the apparently insane girl who had erupted into his previously-quiet compartment.

"Uh... Hermione... who are you talking to?"

"Do you hear her too?!" Hermione asked, frantically looking about the compartment, hoping to find the source of the voice.

"...Umm... hear who?" Neville blinked again, trying to hide his fear.

"The voi—"

"Hermione!! Oh, couldn't you hear me? I was yelling out your name and you _bolted_into the compartment, like you were _avoiding_ me or something." The Slytherin let out a shrill laugh as if it were the most preposterous idea ever.

"...Uhh... Pans—" Oi, oh no you don't, if you think you're going to 'explain the situation' to her, you've got something else coming. Now go on, be her _best friend_.

"That's insane. Look, I don't know who—"

"I know! You avoiding me! How laughable!"

Hermione shot a frightened glance at Pansy, suddenly remembering that she was _still there_. In defeat, Hermione sighed.

"I did not! What do you mean defeat? I'm no—"

"'Mione, who are you talking to?" Pansy asked sweetly whilst examining her nails.

"Wha- Oh, no one, just, uhh... just thinking to myself." Ha, Hermione, that was lame. So very lame, and to think you were the smartest witch of the century.

"What do you mean 'were'?!"

As in, not anymore, duh. You didn't think you could look hot, be pure-blooded AND smart, did you? Gosh you're greedy.

"Hermione, I don't know who you're talking to or what about, you're really confusing me." Pansy was biting the cuticle on the left side of the nail on her right middle finger, which kind of grossed Hermione out.

"Don't worry, I'm just talking to myself, sorting some things out, you know, so much has happened during the holidays."

"What happened?" Both girls turned to face Neville having forgotten that he existed, simply because he was a good-for-nothing Gryffindor, and an insignificant one at that.

"Hey! Neville is _not_ insignificant! And just WHAT is wrong with Gryffindor anyway?!"

"...Uh... thanks Hermione... I think..."

"No problems Nevill—"

"Actually, why are you in here Longbottom?"

"I wa—"

"He was in here first! I just uh... hijacked his compartment... to get away from..."_ You_"uh...Cormac. Yeah, get away from Cormac."

I must say, Hermione, that was slack. Honesty is the foundation to all friendships, and you just lied.

"Yeah, well you're the one who told me to be best friends with her in the first place!"

Oh, so listening to me now, are you?

"What?! No! Oh god, this is going nowhere."

"Best friends with who?" Pansy looked at Hermione quizzically, her mascara matted lashes batting about like a butterfly's wings, a butterfly on steroids.

"Uh... Millicent! You know, now that you and I are best friends and you actually made the effort to be best friends with my other best friends, I should only return the favour! And Daphne too! I love Daphne!"

I win.

Hermione grumbled incoherently in response to this.

Neville looked at her as he would one of Hagrid's more gruesome beasts, edging even further into the corner of the compartment, as if expecting her to bite him. Pansy looked remarkably unconcerned with this turn of events.

Heavy footsteps in the hallway heralding their arrival, Draco and Co. arrived on the scene. Draco was looking absolutely scrumptious today—

"_Scrumptious!?_"

Yes, scrumptious, as in delectable, irresistibly tasty, as in mouthwateringly delicious.

Draco blinked in surprise, before nodding in approval. "I agree. A good word... Zabini... Especially applied to me."

Hermione stared at him. "My name is G—"

Nah-uh. He had it right, dear. Your name is once again Zabini, as it was at your birth.

"Hermione, then!" she snapped.

Draco smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Hmmm, quite right. My apologies, Hermione. I am still adjusting to your new... standing, shall we say."

"Oh for... I'm still the same person—"

—only more beautiful, better groomed, and from a higher form of family.

She barely suppressed a scream.

Good! You're learning! I always knew you were smart. That's right, bottle it all up, before long you'll just be like all the other pure-bloods.

"I don't _WANT_ to be a bloody inbred!" Unfortunately, every witness to her outburst, happened to be a 'bloody inbred'.

Hermione, dear, let me tell you something. You're in a compartment, with Neville, Pansy, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, the best part is that they're _all_ pure-blooded. Have fun getting out of that one.

"I should hope you didn't mean _pure-bloods _when you said 'bloody inbred' because—"

"Uh, look, I'm really confused, can someone explain what's going on to me?"

"Longbottom, I should hope you realise just how stupid you were in interrupting _me_, Draco Malfoy, just then." Draco sneered at Neville, making Neville wish there was more corner for him to shrink into because right now, the corner was really uncomfortable.

"Look, Neville, something really weird is going on. Apparently, I'm a sodding pure-blood—"

"Hermione! Don't say it like it's a curse! It's wonderful that you're not a Mud—Muggle-born anymore. If you were we wouldn't be friends!" Pansy looked close to tears.

Heh, 'Mione, quite frankly, I think you're screwed.

"Oh shut up Parkinson. Look, Neville, it's really strange, I have this really, really strange lady talking in my head and all of a sudden I'm hot and I'm a pure-blood and Drac- _MALFOY_, Malfoy damnit. All of a sudden Malfoy thinks I'm hot, and I'm best friends with a bunch of Slytherins and I _NEED_ you to find Harry and Ron because they're not my friends anymore and you need to get them to save me!"

Ha! A likely story Zabini! A likely story.

"Shut up! Just SHUT UP! I'm HERMIONE GRANGER, not Hermione Zabini! Just SHUT UP!" It was at this point that Neville truly started to fear for his life; the one girl he had always been able to trust and rely on had truly, well and truly, lost her marbles, every single one of them.

Not far from him, Draco felt his heart beat a little faster, his stomach did a bit of a flop, and it was as if there was a small miniature Eros within him, tugging at his heart strings like a harp. If he had any experience with emotions, he would realise he was falling in love. But he didn't have any experience with emotions, so he remained clueless.

"You cannot be serious," Hermione stated flatly.

Oh, but I am.

Hermione stood up abruptly. "That's it. I still have free will. I am going to find Harry and Ron myself!"

Hey, I didn't say you could do that!

"Watch me!" she all but yelled, stalking out of the compartment, shoving past the Hotness and his minions.

And did they watch—Draco in particular enjoying the view of her sashaying away, hips swinging enti—

"I am not—UGH! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

Now heads were appearing from all sides as the various students on the train investigated the noise.

Hermione spotted the, err, _distinctive _head of hair that could best be associated with carrots and made a mad dash for her ex-friends, nearly crashing into the food trolley as the woman pushing it tried to make her rounds.

"My goodness, dear, are you alright?" the matronly woman asked.

"NO! I think I'm going insane! Help!"

There was a dramatic pause that even the narrator hesitated to break after that outburst.

You know, if you don't stop acting up, I'm going to have to do a time-skip.

"I thought you were hesitating!"

I did, for two seconds. That counts as hesitating. But really, are you going to start behaving or not?

"Dear, who are you talking to?" Hermione looked up from the floor where she was seductively splayed with her limbs akimbo, at the older lady. Even the trolley lady thought she was insane.

"Damnit! Why am I the only one who can hear you?! It's driving me nuts! And why am I SEDUCTIVELY splayed across the floor?!"

Well, firstly, you're a tad late, I _have_ driven you insane, and secondly, driving you nuts is fun, if I had a Facebook account that asked me for my hobbies, driving you insane would definitely be on the list. It'd be first on the list. Lastly, you're splayed all over the floor with your limbs akimbo in a seductive manner because Draco is staring at you. Smile.

"Uh, Mione, everyone can hear the Trolley Lady, and _everyone_ can hear you."

"Oh, Ron! You _don't_ hate me!" Hermione latched on to her Carrot—I mean, Ron—and sobbed with all her might. Carrotboy was taken aback for however long it took for his mediocre mind to process that the love of his life was willingly latching herself on him, which was about 6.832 seconds. Then he hugged back with much enthusiasm.

"Of course not! 'Mione, I want to tell you something."

"What -sniff- is it -sniff- Ron?" Hermione's crying had slowed down to a mild sniffling, tears trickled down her cheeks majestically, reminding all the boys in the vicinity of an angel.

"I'm going to ignore you for now- No! No, not you Ron! No, I was just talking to the voice in my head! I have some things to tell you too! But you go first!"

"'Mione, I love you, I have for so long, and that... fling, I had with Lavender last year, that was purely physical, I don't love her like I love you. Also, the pure-blood prat is looking at you, he looks like he wants to eat you, which brings me to my last point; you're bloody smokin'!" Ron the Carrot grinned at Hermione like a lovesick puppy, not that puppies can grin, or be lovesick.

"Will you STOP calling him a Carrot?!" She turned back to look at Ron, a sweet loving smile gracing her face. "Ron, I love yo-"

Oh no you don't! NO! Sorry honey, you're with Malfoy.

"I _HATE_ Malfoy! Now give me back my free will!"

Ha! What kind of narrator do you take me for? The idiotic kind? The kind that can easily be conned by her own characters?! Now, continue telling Ron what you have to say, like you're in love with Malfoy.

Hermione was about to roll her eyes when she caught the extremely confused look on Carrotboy's face. Go figure, the idiot can't process one plus one, let alone the fact that his one and only true love was currently trying to earn a room in the loony bin.

Hermione took a deep, calming breath. "Ron, I lo—"

We've been through this. He is awful for you, Hermione! Look at that hair! Think of the children!

"—_ve y_—"

What, are you seriously ignoring me now? You can't do that! I'll call my lawyer!

"_ou_," she finished through gritted teeth.

Oh, now you've done it, missy!

Abruptly, the train jerked to a halt, knocking everyone to the floor. Carrot-top, misfortunes of misfortunes, hit his head rather hard on the way down, probably earning himself a concussion and knocking him out cold.

Hermione staggered and nearly fell when strong, marble-esque arms caught her around the waist, preventing her from receiving the same fate as the carrot-brain. She started to stammer out a shaky thank you when she glanced up, completely caught in the steel-coloured eyes of her rescuer. Her breath caught in her throat as she lost herself in those wondrous eyes—

"I did no such thing!"

The eyes blinked. "You're a nutter... but I like that. Nutters have kinky sex."

"EW!"

Draco flashed a sexy grin at Hermione, a grin that could rival Edward Cullens. "You know you want me, Hermione. I want you too. It's okay to admit it."

"Okay, this is _disgusting_. Miss Narrator, please, I _beg_ of you, please take your school-girl fantasy somewhere else, this is disgusting."

"I'm not a school-girl, I'm a school-boy, a damn sexy one at that, but if you like, I'm all for role-play." It was now that Hermione truly absorbed her predicament—her _wonderful_ predicament of being confined within the muscled arms of Draco Malfoy, Adonis of the Wizarding World.

"Adonis? _ADONIS?!_ You compared this arrogant, self-obsessed, bleached blond, grey-eyed, articulate, rich, sophisticated boy to Adonis?!"

You do realise that the last three terms were definitely positive descriptions?

"Most people call me Draco, but I'll take Adonis."

"Oh my god." Hermione wanted to die, but I didn't let her.

"God works too." Draco flashed a lop-sided grin; it was a new smile he was working on. It worked. Hermione's knees weakened and she would have fallen to the floor—in a sexy way—but she hadn't left Draco's arms yet.

"Oh! Ugh, oh god, I hate you." Hermione pushed herself out of Draco's hold.

"That's not what you said last night."

Our dazzling heroine began to brushed herself off, accidentally bringing attention to her recently filled out and very well endowed bosom.

"Who the _hell_ uses the word _bosom_ these days?!... Merlin, they are big."

Do you like them?

"...Well... yes, I suppose." Hermione was busily examining her newly enhanced bosom when Draco irritably poked her.

"Some attention to me please—also, I agree, your breasts are big and I like them too, but I like you more." At this, Hermione positively melted into a lovely sparkly Hermione-puddle. Metaphorically of course.

"Will you stop making things up?!"

No.

"I'm not lying, I really do like you, I know I've been a really, really vile prat to you for the past six years, but I can explain!" Draco waved his arms about in a dramatic fashion as if waving his arms around like a lunatic was convincing in any way. Thankfully, Hermione fell for it.

"I did no—"

Hey! Look, you're at Hogwarts now! Off you get!

"Oh thank god," she muttered, walking quickly towards the nearest exit.

"Hey, where are you going?" Draco called, jogging after her.

"Anywhere that you're not!"

Now really, that wasn't very nice. I think you might've hurt his feelings.

"HE DOESN'T HAVE FEELINGS!" she shouted, "He's a Slytherin, Death Eater scum, absolute pillock, ferrety little brat!

Okay, now I _know_ you hurt his feelings. Look at him!

Almost against her will, she looked.

Draco stood with his back to the setting sun, wind gently mussing his white-gold locks into disarray. His eyes flickered with hurt even though his face remained artfully stoic—

"Would you _stop_ with the poetic license?" she muttered.

You don't tell me what to do! I tell _you_ what to do! Now get over there and comfort that woefully hurt godling!

"Ignoring your _woeful_ vernacular when it comes to Malfoy, why in Merlin's name should I?" she demanded incredulously. "He never comforted me after he called me Mudblood—not once!"

Hey! You're supposed to forget about all of that and let bygones be bygones when you find out you're a pure-blood!

"That's ridiculous! Why would I?!"

Because it was all meaningless! Your blood is almost as pure as his is!

"And that changes the way it made me feel... how?"

Would it help if I made him apologize?

"...Maybe. Wait, you can do that?"

...Maybe. He can be rather head-strong. And it's hard to get past the 'sex-layer' in his mind.

"Too much information!"

"Ahem, Hermione, darling? I'm kind of getting tired of standing here looking forlorn."

Look at that, how could you be so coldhearted? And you call yourself a Gryffindor, where is your kindhearted loving nature? The loyalty?

"Loyalty is a Hufflepuff trait, you nitwit."

...I'm going to ignore that you just insulted me. Now be a _dear_ and get your applebottom over there and comfort Mr. Adorable. Hermione choked on her own spit and had a small coughing fit which lasted for a good 3 minutes and 24 seconds.

"You did that on purpose!"

Proof? That's right. Now hop to it!

Grudgingly (but secretly joyously), Hermione made her way towards the god-like Draco who had remained still during her coughing fit.

"Come on, demigod, let's go to the castle, I have Head Girl duties."

Draco beamed at being called demigod, because although I've been praising him non-stop since forever, he can't hear me.

"You should change that, make him hear you, then he'll fall in love with you!"

...Tempting, but nice try, I'm not falling for that.

"Damn." Hermione muttered to herself. Draco's eyes glazed over with lust as Hermione displayed more nuttiness.

By the time Hermione and Draco reached the carriages, only one remained. Hermione continued to mutter to herself as she climbed in, followed by a slightly confused but extremely lust-consumed godly creature by the name of Draco.

"Will you stop describing him like that?!"

Why? Is it getting to you?

"Yes!"

Ah-hah! I knew it! You're falling for him!

"Wha- Oh, I give up, whatever."

Narrator -4, Hermione -0. I'd like to thank my mum, my dad, my lovely supporting siblings, my husband Edward Culle-

"Will you just get on with the plot?!" Hermione shrieked.

Why? Eager to get it on with Malfoy?

"Ye- NO! Oh god."

"Yes, my sweet?"

"What? No! Not you! You're not god, Draco!"

Oooh, you called him Draco! Narrator -5, Hermione -0.

Hermione groaned and hid her face in her hands as the Thestrals slowly approached the castle, the journey as bumpy as the events that would soon rock the entire school...

"Bad foreshadowing now? Please tell me you're going to kill me off? Soon?"

Oh, no, you're going to live a very happy live with your beloved godling over there. Five kids, a dog, white picket fence, the works.

"_FIVE?!_"

Well, yeah, but only because Draco never does convince you to have the last two for his personal Quidditch team.

"Oh g—Merlin, someone save me."

Although, you really should consider having seven. I can see it now—"_Dramione Dragons take home Quidditch cup!_"— Hey, you should look at that choking thing, that really can't be healthy.

"Your wish is my command, my beautiful sex goddess," Draco said, responding to her earlier plea. Hermione looked at her demigod to find him making googley eyes at her and she quickly suppressed the urge to vomit.

It was at this point that the carriage suddenly jolted and came to an abrupt stop. Then Hermione did vomit.

"I... ugh... I, hate -blech- ugh, you."

Draco looked positively wounded, not knowing that Hermione was actually talking to the voice in her head, that is, me. Hey, Hermione?

"Yea -blech- Yes?"

You hurt Drakey's feelings.

"...Go to hell."

Now you've hurt my feelings, and you know that's not a very wise decision.

"... Oh Merlin."

"Hermione, my love, we have to get going if we want to be there for our official induction."

"...Our?"

"Yeah, I'm Head Boy! We'll be sharing our duties and working together!" Draco beamed uncommonly bright, which scared the bajeebus out of Hermione (as in it sent tingles up and down her spine.)

"Oh god..." Hermione groaned loudly as they walked up the stairs towards the Grand Entrance.

"I really like that pet name, my goddess." Hermione desperately fought off the urge to slap the dashing godling beside her.

The doors to Hogwarts gave a great creak as Hermione pushed them open, and the two gorgeous teens entered just in time to see the last of their peers wandering into the Great Hall. Relieved, Hermione hastened forward—

"Ugh, you just had me lose my lunch, and I really don't feel like _hastening_ anywhere."

Why must you mock my word choices?

Draco took this as his cue to rescue her, as he had promised earlier, and swept her up in his strong, porcelain arms. Hermione squealed in protest and surprise, but slowly relaxed—

"I do _not_ squeal! And for the sake of Merlin's pink bunny slippers, _put me down_!"

You know, I'm really starting to not like you. Must you interrupt everything I say?

Hermione sighed tiredly, not dignifying that question with a response.

Having finally made their way into the Great Hall, Hermione took her place at the Gryffindor table. Draco glided towards the Slytherin table in a godly manner after blowing Hermione an air-kiss, to which all the other girls in the school appropriately swooned. He was, after all, a stud muffin.

"Stud muffin?! STUD MUFFIN?!"

"No, Miss Zabini, SPUD Muffins, they're muffins made of potatoes. Our house elves cleverly thought of them when we ran out of flour," said Dumbledore.

The entire school watched on intently, waiting for Hermione's reaction to the house elves and their enslavement. Intensity soon dissolved to confubbulation when she didn't react. Hermione shrugged and calmly stated that she was over fighting for the rights of house elves and that she acknowledged their desire to be slaves.

"Confub—no, I did not hear that. More importantly, I did not say that! You're putting words in my mouth! FREE THE ELVES. FREE THE—"

Shut up, or I'll make you marry Draco.

"Miss Zabini, if you will allow me to speak." Hermione plopped down on her seat quick smart, her cheeks a bright red that made Draco fall a bit more in love, even from across the hall.

"I have a few announcements to make," announced Dumbledore. "Firstly, I would like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Head Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Zabini!" The crowd applauded politely with the occasional overzealous whoop. "Secondly, I have decided, in order to enhance their co-operative abilities and to strengthen inter-house relationships, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Zabini will be sharing a dormitory together."

"Are you kidding me? You're kidding me right?"

No, I'm not. This is for telling me to go to hell.

"Hermione, why does he keep calling you 'Zabini'?" queried Lightning Bolt, but Hermione just ignored the Boy-Who-Had-More-Lives-Than-Brain-Cells.

"Tell me you're kidding, please!"

I'm kidding.

"Really?! Oh thank go-"

Nope, only joking. You're living with him.

"You're kidding!"

I think we've been through that. I really don't see why you're complaining, you're living with the reincarnation of hot. I'd kill to live with him.

"Kill me! Kill me! Take my spot!"

...Ha, nice try. You really do take me for an idiot.

"Hermione, why are you asking to be killed? More importantly, who are you asking?" Little Carrot asked.

"She has a name, it's Ginny."

"...Hermione, I know my name, and who are you talking to? Wait, answer my first two questions first!"

Does she not realise that that _was_ one of her questions? Honestly.

Hermione nobly (annoyingly!) ignored that comment. "Oh Ginny, it's this evil lady in my he-"

Nah-uh, what did I say about talking crazy talk? If you say anymore to Little Carrot, I'll make sure you have TWO Quidditch teams with Draco.

"WHAT?! Oh GOD, that's... that's just... Oh god, EW!" Hermione howled, driving the point home that she really had gone nuts. With that, Hermione bolted out of the Great Hall much to the confusion of everyone.

Hermione ran into her room, tears streaking down her pristine angelic face.

"How -sob- did I -sniff- get in here?"

My magical narrator powers, duh.

"Why am I -sob- crying?"

Well... two reasons.

"Which -sniffle- are?"

One, despite your cheery exterior you have actually suffered a horrifically traumatic summer wherein, your father became an abusive alcoholic for reasons unknown, he physically abused your mother and you, and assaulted your best friend, then, in an attempt to escape your father's evil clutch, your mother jumped into the car and tried to drive away. But in her haste she did not see the gigantically massive truck that was coming around the bend and that would eventually become the tragic end of your mother. After the catastrophic death of your beloved mother your dad was ridden with guilt and grief which fueled his alcoholic tendencies. This then snow-balled, as he became even more abusive and he assaulted you several times over the course of two weeks. When you had finally had enough you ran away from home. In your journeys you were captured by Death Eaters who tortured you endlessly. Thankfully, your intelligence allowed you to get away from them before they killed you. Upon arriving home, you found your dad dead as he had committed suicide. Alone and hungry you did the only thing you could think of, and Apparated to the Burrow. However, your Apparition skills were slightly off and you Apparated right into Ron's room, which was at the time occupied, by a very "happy" couple by the name of Ron and Lavender.

"...That's -sob- bloody insane."

Ah, but it happened.

"...So if -sniff- that's point one, –sob– what's point two? -sob-"

Well, if you insist, you're also crying because you're pregnant and extremely hormonal.

"-so- WHAT?!"

You did ask.

"I'm PREGNANT?!"

Preggers. Expecting. Knocked up. With child. Up the duff. You have a bun in the oven. You are going to be a mother. There is a baby in you. You will be eating for two from now on.

"HOW?!" The tears seemed to stop flowing from Hermione's honey-brown orbs which sparkled so prettily in the light of the moon which was coming in through a lovely window beside her new queen-size bed. The window displayed a perfect view of the lake which glistened in the moonlight, like Hermione's sparkling honey ey-

"GET ON WITH IT!"

You know, talking to me like that really isn't going to get you anywhere.

"Tell. Me. How. I. Became. Pregnant."

Teenagers, always so rude. Look, remember when the ever wonderful, deliciously edible, amazingly hot, suave, intelligent, witty, charming, smoking, god-li-

"I get it! You're talking about Draco! Yes, now PLEASE just get on with it!"

Pah, so rude, where _are_ your manners?

"On vacation when you're concerned, now get on with it!"

And that's when Hermione dropped, rolled over and died, complete with rolling eyes and lolling tongue.

"Oi!"

Well then be quiet!

"...Fine." Hermione began to mutter but was shortly stopped by a coughing fit of epic proportions. "Okay! Okay! Bloody tyra -cough- Okay! I'm sorry!"

That's right, anyway, as I was saying, do you remember when the ever wonderful, deliciously edible, amazingly hot, suave, intelligent, witty, charming, smoking god-like Draco said: 'That's not what you said last night'?

"...Yes... but that's just a common rebuttal..."

Not in your case.

"... You're telling me... that I spent last night with him... that I may have _slept_ with the Ferret..."

Ferret?! I will not have you comparing my Adonis, my Edward Cullen, my luscious embodiment of perfection, to a common Mustelid!

"...I'm sincerely hoping this is a nightmare."

And you _did_ sleep with the demigod. I got a really good view, too.

"TOO MUCH INFORMATION! Merlin, I really DON'T need to know some of these things!"

I'm not Merlin, although, with the power I have over you, I might as well be. Besides, nothing I say should come across as gross to you, you ARE the one who slept with him, you lucky girl.

"Can we keep the rating of this conversation at a PG level? I don't think I can handle it."

Silly girl, you're going to be a mum, and you can't handle sex talk.

"That's another thing, if I only... you know, with him last night... how do you know I'm pregnant already?!"

The plot-bunny told me.

"_Who_?"

The plot-bunny.

"... Okay, this is weird. I'm going to sleep."

But what am I going to do? Watching you sleep isn't the most exciting thing, you know.

"Ugh, you watch me _sleep_? Get a life!"

_Sniffle._ Fine. _Sniffle._ I don't need your approval. I don't care. It's not like I don't have any real friends or anything. _Sniffle_.

"Oh... hey... I didn't mean—"

Well, maybe you should think before you speak then! Go to sleep. I don't want to talk to you anymore.

Mumbling to herself something that sounded like "_bipolar,_" (I _heard_ that!) Hermione slipped into her sexiest negligee and burrowed beneath the covers of her queen-sized bed, instantly relaxing into her silken sheets (You're lucky I don't give you wool, you ingrate...)

"After making me inbred, abused, orphaned, and pregnant, not to mention having to share this stupid dorm with _Malfoy_ of all people, I don't think I owe you anything!"

You're not really an orphan. I mean, Mrs. Zabini can be somewhat of a cold woman, but she's still your mother.

"And that's another thing! Your story doesn't even make sense! Firstly, if all of that with my 'abusive father' happened, when did I have time to find out I was a Zabini? If I'm a Zabini, why did Death Eaters torture me 'endlessly'? And _why_ would I apparate to the Burrow as a _last resort_? That would be the _first_ place I'd go! For that matter, why would I suffer the abuse of my father at all, rather than just stunning him and sending him to an alcoholic's society?"

Well, obviously you didn't want to hurt your adoptive-father, and you didn't want to get in trouble with the Ministry for underage magic.

"Stunning him wouldn't hurt him! And I turned seventeen last September!"

Oh, just go to sleep already so I can reveal your new prophetic powers that you inherited from your biological grandfather.

"Prophetic...! Ugh, I hate divina—!"

A rock appeared out of nowhere above Hermione's head, hitting her soundly and knocking her out cold.

Ha ha. Take that. On with the dream!

_Hermione rarely dreamed, but tonight her mind was full of strange and incomprehensibly illogical images. At first she dreamed of a child running, a small girl no older than three. The girl had soft blond curls and piercing silver eyes. Hermione had this strange feeling that she knew the girl; it was like recognising a book name, but not remembering what the book was about. The girl kept running towards Hermione, crying out 'Mummy', but no matter how fast she ran or how much she ran, she never came closer._

Slowly the dream faded out, and a new scene appeared. She was in her bathroom, the one she shared with Draco. Hermione watched as she turned on the tap for her bath; bright lavender bubbles poured out, filling the tub. She began to disrobe and was unbuttoning her blouse when the bathroom door clicked open. She turned around smiling, already knowing her intruder. Draco smiled back, "Hello, love." He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her supple waist. Hermione's hands abandoned their task, leaving her blouse half undone. Pulling him forward by his collar she caught his lips with a passionate kiss.

"So you love me now, do you?"...

The dream changed again. At first, all Hermione could see were faint glimmers, a flicker of colour and movement here and there. Then the images became clearer; pale grey fingers reached out for her, clawing and grasping air. The nails were long, unkempt and lethal-looking. Slightly greener webs hung between the fingers, stretching as the fingers continued to grab the nothingness. Then the darkness went away. The entire image was revealed. Hermione saw it all; the scrawny, murky-green arms, the scraggly green hair; wavy in its wetness, the hint of the creature's ribcage peeking out from underneath the grey skin, the gills and the **tail**. _The creature had a tail, a magnificent tail of iridescent silver scales. The creature was **her**._

Hermione awoke abruptly, gasping slightly. She groaned, swinging her feet from under the covers and hiding her face in her hands. Although she dreamed rarely, she was not one to forget those dreams that did occur, and the image of that child... of herself with Draco... of herself with those strange, Mermish features... It left her shaking and afraid, and yet with a strange sense of... longing...

But slowly the dream faded, leaving behind only the reality of abusive adopted parents, death and torture and confusing godlings—

"Oh, would you just bloody shut up already?"

Hey, you completely ruined my flow! That's rude and unnecessary!

Hermione sighed tiredly, tapping her fingers against her leg expectantly.

Oh, so now you want me to continue? Maybe I'm not in the mood! ...Wow, Pumpkin-head was right, you are scary. Alright, alright. Let's see... Oh, right.

Confusing godlings, playing with her emotions like a kitten with yarn—

"Hey, that reminds me, where's Crookshanks?"

I almost wish you could see me. My glare is as magnificent as yours was, I assure you. Your adoptive father killed Crookshanks in a fit of drunken rage, because your life needed some more angst. Now, if I may continue?

—and as these memories threatened to consume her, a lump formed in her throat and tears started to well up in her eyes, and she lurched to her feet, heading towards the bathroom she shared with Draco. She fumbled with the tap, but finally got the water running in time to cover the sound of her broken sobs.

Slowly, she collected herself enough to pull off her negligee and step into the stream of water, cascading water glistening in the soft light of early morning as it caressed her bare—

"Oi!" she objected, getting a mouthful of water for her trouble.

Hush, I'm being artistic. ...Hey! Who taught you that hand gesture? You're supposed to be an abused innocent here! Fine we'll skip the shower scene, yeesh.

She stepped out of the water that had long gone cold, accepting that she couldn't hide from her troubles forever... and yet not quite ready to face the terrible numbness that she experienced whenever she was around truly happy people... She dressed slowly, and was brushing out her caramel tresses when she saw it.

Draco's razor.

She reached out hesitantly, nearly snatching her hand back more than once before she finally touched it. The cool metal sent a tingle up her arm, and she knew... this was the answer. This was what could make her finally feel something again, even if it was physical pain—

"_WHAT_?! No way! _Cutting_? Are you _insane_? I am _not_ going to mutilate myself!" she exclaimed, tossing down her hairbrush and stomping out of the room.

Hey, get back here! You need to start this habit now so that in the near future you can accidentally cut too deep and Draco can rescue you like a guardian angel and you can hate him for it while slowly falling in love as he comforts you!

"And what, exactly, about that statement would make me want to go back into the bathroom?"

The falling in love part?

"You haven't been paying attention at _all, _have you_?"_

Ohhh, look, here comes Draco!

Hermione snorted loudly.

You know, that's really not very lady-like. You sound like a little piggy.

Draco thumped her on the back, concerned when she started gasping for air, making strangled noises.

She waved him off wildly, nearly poking him in the eye before he finally took the hint to back off.

Good god, you're so violent, Hermione. You should be more careful. Draco wouldn't look nearly so good with only one eye... Although... hmmm... maybe with a pirate outfit...

Hermione coughed loudly, as if trying to drown me out (so rude!).

Draco grinned at her impishly—another new look that he was trying out, that, had there been any besides Hermione, would have successfully made every girl in sight want to ravish him. "How are you this morning, my sweet? Still barmy, I hope?"

"Go away, Malfoy," she groused, dropping into one of the chairs that surrounded their small kitchen table.

Really, Hermione, is that any way to talk to the father of your child?

"I don't want to," Draco complained, pouting sexily.

"I have a headache," she lied.

"Endorphins will make you feel better," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. And cutely.

"Uggghhh," she moaned pitifully, dropping her head into the shelter of her arms, where they lay, crossed, on the table.

A gentle warmth enveloped her shoulders as skilled fingers began to massage them, releasing the tension. The fingers were long and thin—the hands of an artist, she noted—and the person controlling them attacked her muscles with the elegance of a trained masseur. She couldn't help but fall in love with those hands. And... I'm running out of things to say here, why haven't you interrupted me yet?

"Mmm," she said, enjoying the massage.

You do realise those are Draco's hands?

"Mmm."

Hey, look! House-elves are performing a ballet behind you in little pink tutus!

"Mmm."

Voldemort has just joined them, singing opera while riding a three-headed dragon!

"Mmm..."

You aren't listening to me at all, are you?

"Mmm."  
_  
Fine then._ I guess you won't care when I tell you Dumbledore has been staring at you for the past... oh... 1 minute and 23.2 seconds?

"Mm—wait, _what_?!" she exclaimed, jerking upright.

Ha, _that_ got you out of it.

"You liar! He's not here!"

Well I needed to _talk_ to you, and you obviously weren't in a state appropriate for _talking_.

"That's rich, considering you've been wittering nonstop since I got to King's Cross Station yesterday."

Oh, shut up, will you? Now I know why everyone hates you.

"They do _not_!"

That's what they want you to think.

"Hmmph!" Hermione crossed her arms and I took that as my cue to begin talking.

You need to go see Dumby.

"See who?"

"See me my Darling! I will be the divine god to your goddess, the peanut butter to your jelly, the biscuits to your cream, the-"

"Shut up Draco, I'm busy."

Ooh, you called him Draco again, narrator -6, Hermione -0. You're losing badly, honey, and furthermore, ask politely—a lady of your calibre should have poise and grace. Now ask again, with a vocabulary that reflects your pedigree.

Hermione rolled her eyes and visibly slumped in an unladylike manner and began talking to herself.

"Firstly, I am not talking to myself, I am talking to you. Secondly, who am I supposed to be visiting today?" She asked primly and even batted her eyelashes a bit, showing off her lovely green eyes.

"Green?!" Hermione jumped up off her seat, nearly upturning the kitchen table and rushed to the closest reflective surface.

"What have you _done_?!" she groaned upon seeing her mirror image.

What do you mean, what have I done? I didn't do anything!

"Lies! Last night you were raving about my honey-brown eyes—honey is _not_ brown, by the way—and now they're green! You've made my eyes green! Royally green!"

There's no such thing as Royal Green, you silly girl, and to think they call you the smartest witch in a century. Besides, I quite like them, they're a really beautiful colour. They put Lightning-Bolt's to shame.

"That's it! This has gone _too_ far! I'm going to see Dumbledore!" Hermione screeched as she stormed out of the bathroom and out of her dorm. Mission accomplished.

"What?!"

Nooothing... Just go see Dumblydork.

"You did not. Just insult Dumbledore. In front of me," she said, stopping in the middle of the corridor.

Well, technically I'm not in front of you, so no... Now stop scaring the ickle firsties and go see the Headpoofter.

Hermione started, glancing at the teeny-tots that were staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. "Err. Don't you have classes? You really shouldn't miss them, on your first day. Or, you know, ever," she said, smiling her best I'm-not-insane smile.

Less teeth, dear. You look a bit like Bella.

Her smile quickly faltered, and the firsties ran while the getting was good. "Bella? _Bellatrix Lestrange_?! You did _not_ just compare me to Bellatrix Lestrange!"

You know, the first step to solving your problem is admitting you have one. You have a real denial issue. And a dental one. Didn't your adoptive parents tell you it's not healthy to grind your teeth like that?

"WOULD YOU SHUT IT ABOUT MY PARENTS?!" she screamed.

Sommmeboddy neeeds Angerr Management classess...

"Somebody needs to have their tongue forcibly removed from their head!"

That would be your head, my dear. Seeing as I am inside of it, and all. Oh, look, there's the gargoyle that guards Dorky's office!

"Oh, thank _god_."

You need to stop thinking of Draco. Hey! That's not nice! Put that finger down! YOU brought him up, not me! Stop glaring at nothing, you're looking in the wrong direction anyway, now give the nice gargoyle the password and go talk to Bumble-bore.

"What is _with_ you and nicknames?!"

Just go, you annoying brat. For someone who was brought up a Muggle you SURE are snotty.

"Bit-" Nuh-ahh! Stop muttering! "You're really annoying you—lemon drops—know that?" A spiraling flight of stairs revealed themselves to Hermione who raised one gloriously long, sleek golden leg that seemed to stretch for miles and miles and glimmer like a thousand sun-

"Will you get on with it? I _do_ want to see Dumbledore before class begins."

Will you stop interrupting me? It's so _rude_! Now, where was I? Ah yes, her legs were perfect; an elaborate design of perfection, Merlin's best work yet, her tan glimmered like a thousand suns and every pore upon it oozed sex appeal. As she made her way up the spiral to the old coot's office Hermione's pin-stripe mini-skirt brushed against her upper-

"What is _with_ you and my legs?! Are you lesbian?"

Who told you I was a girl?

"... Oh god..."

Thinking of Draco again?

"NO! Well, you SOUND like a girl!"

That's not nice! It's not my fault I sound girly! Really, to judge me like that! How offensive! Look, I can't help it if I sound feminine alright?!

"...Oh, ew, ew, ewwwww, EW! EW! You're a guy?! Oh, MERLIN!"

Heh, I love screwing with you. The door to Teh Dork's office came into view, Hermione placed her hand on the knocker and knocked. Though, what else you would do with a knocker I have no idea, hey, that's kinda ironic isn't it, 'Mione? You're _knocked up_ and you're using a _knocker _to _knock_!

"Don't remind me." Hermione said through gritted teeth, which kind of sounded weird, and made me worry about the state of her teeth. It would be such a shame, however ironic, if she lost all her teeth seeing as her adoptive parents were dentists.

"Enter," came a voice. Now, most people would say it sounded sagely, wise and comforting, but I just think he's on drugs, he's so mellow... like hippies... hey! Hermione, my love, can you imagine BumbleBee here in a 'fro, with sky high platforms and one of those funky, psychedelic print jumpsuits? In _flares_?

"...I don't want to know, really." Hermione crossed the threshold and into BuzzybuzzyBee's office.

"Ah, Miss Zabini, how may I be of assistance to you today?" BumblyDumbly looked over his half-moon glasses, which, if you ask me, are very stupid looking.

"Will you stop insulting him? He's an amazing man, you have no idea how much he's done for the Wizarding World, not to mention he's an extremely intelligent man, wonderful mentor to Harry, supremely powerful... blah blah blah," and the girl went on, and on, and on, in front of said wizard, and she says _I'm_ a rambler. If I could sit, I'd sit back and laugh.

"Ah, Miss Zabini, I thank you for your high regards, but I am undeserving of such claims, now, what seems to be the problem? Surely, you didn't just step in to praise me in third person?" He asked fondly. Hermione the wonderful dazzling Veela-girl -

"I'm a VEELA?!"

No, I was _ACTUALLY_ kidding for that one, anyway, as I was saying; Hermione the wonderful dazzling, sparkly Veela-girl blushed a furious red which made Boredumble chuckle, although admittedly, the man chuckles more than he breathes.

"Miss Zabini, I daresay you are a strange girl." This time, he _smiled_ fondly. Creepy.

"Professor, I have an _issue_ right now, and I was hoping you would be able to help me with eradicating the problem."

"Ah, and what seems to be the issue?"

Hermione my darling pure-blooded sweetpea, I hope you do realise that no one, and I mean _no one_ can help you out of this predicament.

Hermione valiantly decided to ignore me, which is never good.

"You see, Professor, I had a dream last night—" Of you Professor, ooooh "—shut up. I had a dream last night, and it was... odd; in the dream, there was a child, a girl child who kept running towards me, calling me Mummy. Then my dream... my dream changed and at first all I could see were webbed hands, almost claw-like, and as it was revealed, the webbed hands were mine, and I was a mermaid. I know it's just a dream, and an odd dream at that, but there's something about the dream, it makes me feel... fulfilled, complete." Hermione's luscious green eyes looked up to find Buzzybum staring intently towards her.

And the plot thickens. Dun dun dun! Do you like my music, 'Mione?

"Shut up."

You know, you're really rude, just, where _are_ your manners? We're going to be together for a long time, you know? Forever in fact, so I suggest you be a bit kinder to me, cause Merlin knows I can be a cow to you if I want.

Hermione was about to make a lame come-back to the voice in her head, namely me, when Dum-Bum spoke up.

"Hermione, I believe it's time you knew the truth."

The shockingly rude, yet gorgeous teenager looked up, hope brimming in her seaweed coloured eyes.

Grumble-snore smiled serenely (drugs I say!). "You see, Miss Zabini... before you were born, there was a prophecy made... and it was about you." No, really? We thought you were about to tell her something unrelated. Though, I wouldn't put that past you... "I could tell you what it said, but I think it simpler just to tell you the meaning, if that is alright with you?"

"Well, sir, I'd prefer—"

"Lemon drop?" he offered abruptly.

Hmmm, maybe he's not a druggie, but simply deaf? That could explain why he doesn't get worked up around shouting teenagers as well.

Hermione blinked. "Umm, no, thank you, sir, but—"

"Quite right, quite right. The prophecy," he said, popping a sweet into his own mouth, "states that your child with Mister Malfoy is to be the saviour of the Wizarding world."

Hermione stared. "But... what about Harry?"

Dumbledore seemed confused for a moment. "Oh, that other kid... the one with the," he dragged his finger in a lightning-bolt pattern on his forehead, "right? No, he's going to fail, you see."

Okay, I'm back to the drugs theory. Probably something in those lemon drops, actually... it's a good thing you didn't take one.

"Anyway, this prophecy has many parts, but we know it's referring to you, because of your... ah, unique, situation."

Hermione, dear, as fascinating as staring at this barmy old bugger is, I think Draco might get a bit jealous if you don't stop it.

"What situation is that, sir?" she asked weakly, and once again ignoring me.

"This dream," he said, smiling reassuringly, "tell me, how did the mermaid bit, in particular, make you feel?"

Like you were home. Go on, say it. You know you want to.

"Wet."

Remind me why I picked _you_ to be the heroine of this story? I'm really having trouble remembering.

Dumbledore seemed slightly surprised (wow, you must have shocked him good!). "Well, was there anything else?"

Hermione stared at him, then sighed and rolled her magnificent green eyes. "Fine, '_Like I was home_.' Happy?"

Very.

Dumbledore beamed. "Yes, well, that would because you are part Mermish."

"**_WHAT?!_**" she shrieked.

Wow, you made the windows rattle. Good thing those are reinforced with magic.

The batty old codger twinkled at her. "Yes, well, the gene skips generations every so often, the more diluted it gets with wizard blood, but your great-grandfather did have a small thing for fish, you see."

Hey, that's quite a twitch you're developing there, 'Mione. You alright?

"As for the dream itself, well, the seer gene does run in your mother's family," Dumbledore continued blithely, "She never did forgive me for it not passing down to her, but it looks like you were luckier than she."

Dumbles, I'm not sure you should continue... she's not looking so well. And it'll be hard to reveal that she's the secret love-child of Arthur Weasley if she goes catatonic. This story needs an incestuous love affair.

Hermione let out a small whimper as her head exploded in a burst of magical energy.

Dumbledore blinked. "I suppose this would be a bad time to mention that I'm your grandfather?"

BOOM.

"Hmm," Dumbledore said, unwrapping another lemon drop. "This office _was_ about due for refurbishing."

The - Wait, gotta document this. Time taken to cause character explosion: 23 hours, 5 minutes and 17 seconds.

The End. For reals.

* * *

_**A/N:**_

Black: Yes, she exploded. Yes, she is dead. Yes, we deliberately made her explode. We also plan to cause many other characters to spontaneously combust. Next victim- I mean, character, Draco Malfoy! We DO try to shove in as many cliches as possible. If you can think of ANY cliche then please tell us, it doesn't matter if we've already done a particular character, we will find a way to incorporate the cliche. Believe me, lol. So yeah, review! Tell us what you thought, tell us what you loved, tell us what made you snort milk, what made you laugh so hard you choked and even cried a bit. Lol, most importantly tell us cliches we've missed, we've got a massive list of 'Cliches to use' and we want it BIGGER!

Lild: Don't believe what they say! Size matters, and bigger is always better! Give us every cliche you can think of for any pairing you can think of! And yes I ended that sentence in a preposition, and no I do not repent or regret!

Okay I'm done being weird. OR AM I?

Black: Lol, bigger is better... ehehe thinks dirty

Lild: Anyway, my cohort is correct, we want to know what you thought, what you found funny, anything and everything you wish to share with us! And shut up with your gutter-mind, Black.

Black: Why am I black? I'm asian. ( Or is this a Sirius Black joke? Am I part of the Noble House of Black?

:O! I'm Bella's love-child! Aren't I?! TELL ME

Lild: It's in your name, silly. BlackxZodiac? If you want to change your nickname, do it.

xZodiac: Because I'm original, I'm going to use the parts of my name that you didn't use. Betcha you didn't see THAT coming! HA! And the plot thickens!

Lild: I'm sure the audience is awed by your originality.

xZodiac: Well duh, I'm awe-inspiring regardless. Anyway, this is getting out of hand and needs to be stopped before it becomes longer than our chapter itself. (See? I'm responsible!)

Lild: Yes, it is, isn't it? Let's wrap this up with a heart-felt shout-out to our readers...

1.  
2..  
3...

Both: REVIEW OR WE WILL SEND MURDEROUS MUSTELIDS TO EAT YOUR SOUL! EVIL VOLDY LAUGHTER ATTACK! Go Pikachu!

(Lild: The Pikachu bit was from xZodiac. I deny responsibility.)


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